


Fighters

by Wrenlet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-19
Updated: 2006-02-19
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrenlet/pseuds/Wrenlet
Summary: Sparring matches are pretty much routine between them, except when they're not.





	Fighters

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through "Nightmare," set post-episode. Thanks to [](http://wolfling.livejournal.com/profile)[wolfling](http://wolfling.livejournal.com/) for beta :)

"Get up."

Sam glares at him, swipes at his mouth with his sleeve trying to clear the grit away. "Fuck you, Dean."

"Get _up_. We're not done, c'mon."

Dean steps back out of his space and motions with his hands, come get some, little brother.

Sam surges up with a snarl, he is _sick_ of this, sick of being knocked on his backside in what feels like every dirt lot between here and Saginaw. He gets that sparring is useful and necessary, he does, but for the last week and change Dean has been after him like he's got something to prove and Sam -- and the bruises on his _ass_ , thank you -- has fucking had enough. Maybe after he knocks Dean's grudge right down his throat, Dean'll learn when to back the hell off.

Sam swings, and he sees Dean's eyes narrow in the instant before he blocks because that's out of bounds, they've kept it to sweeps and throws and arm bars until right this moment, but Sam's thinking maybe he can end this with one good punch.

Provided it lands.

It doesn't. Sam's so fucking pissed by now his pulse is beating up in his ears and he can't seem to throw a damn thing that Dean doesn't see coming a mile away. He might as well be fourteen again, nothing but angles and pissy attitude and Dean knocking him down again and again while their father watched.

Dean isn't even punching back, and if anything this just pisses Sam off that much more.

Sam's roundhouse left catches nothing but air and he's done it again. Winds up flat on his back with Dean's forearm across his throat, Sam's arm twisted up and out and Dean's knee pinning his thigh to the ground. He's got no openings, no fucking _leverage_ and kicking his one free heel in the dirt would just make him look even more the brat than he already feels. Dean's gaze is steady on his face, just the slightest flicker out to the sides letting Sam know that he's not going to give a fucking inch.

Dean is on full alert, as he should be, his eyes taking in his surroundings and any approach that might bring-- anything not _nailed down_. Sam curses a solid streak of blue and smacks Dean on the arm, an ineffectual slap compared to the blows they've been trading but it gets his point across.

Dean releases the hold, hands palm-forward as he gets to his feet. "Okay, what now?"

"What the hell, Dean. You think I'm going to throw something at you? _Push_ you like Max?"

"Thought crossed my mind."

Sam's jaw goes slack when it finally dawns on him, the way Dean is looking at him, and all the anger just drains right down his body and into the dust. "You want me to. You've been trying to make me all week."

Dean sucks in a long breath and blows it out through his nose. "Well, yeah. You said it came out like a punch, I figured if I leaned on you hard enough, it might happen again."

"You figured if you made me _mad_ enough."

Dean flashes him a grin. "Hey, who pisses you off better than me?"

All Sam can do to that is shake his head, and take Dean's offered hand. "You are unbelievable. Was that your whole plan, kick my ass until I kick back? 'Cause you could've said something."

Dean makes a noncommittal noise, pulls him up and brushes at the dirt on his clothes. "Wouldn't have worked if you knew."

"It didn't work _anyway_."

"Bitch, bitch. This kinda thing... it could be useful, Sam."

Because everything's a weapon. Sam doesn't say it because he doesn't have to, they both know. Any advantage they've got they'll take, they always have because this, this is their life. Sam throws his arm around his brother's shoulders and laughs, quiet and rueful.

This is his life.


End file.
